Dark Horses: (Blood Brothers #5)

by Manda Mellett

  Having agreed that would be perfect, he ends the call. Hmm. Is it too much to hope that she won’t be there? Probably.

  Sixty minutes later, having tried to mentally prepare myself to see her again, I push open the large golden doors and step inside, my eyes widening at the transformation since I was last here. Lighting rigs have been set up all around, there’s a stage area that’s been erected, and cables running everywhere. The band members are grouped around a screen, animated and making comments, pointing and gesticulating, but obviously pleased with what they’re watching.

  I clear my throat to get their attention as I make my way across.

  “Hey, Jasim. Thank you so much for joining us.”

  “No problem.” I point to the screen where I can see, and hear, what I assume is the completed video playing. “Is it done?” I sincerely hope so. If it is, she’ll be out of my life and I’ll never have to see her again. Perhaps then I’ll be able to get my life back on track.

  And it’s Janna who swings round, her face open and smiling, “Not quite, Jasim. We’ve had some ideas and need some help to move forward. You said we should come to you if we wanted anything.”

  Feeling my breathing quicken with just one look at her face, I ignore it, waving my hand in encouragement. “What do you need?” I address my question to all of them, not just to her.

  Mickey steps forward. “We’ve completed what we need to do here. But we want to add some elements in, something authentic. We could use CGI, but…”

  “It wouldn’t be the same.” The look Janna tosses him suggests they’ve already been over this.

  “Okay,” I start again, “What is it you want?”

  Now it’s Rory’s turn. “Camel racing, horse racing. Something that has the sand of the desert flying up and robed men riding.”

  “Chasing a woman.” Janna adds with a grin.

  “And capturing her. Sweeping her up onto horseback.” Liam finishes, his eyes glazing over as though he can see it happening in his mind.

  I start to get a bad feeling. “And the woman would be…”

  “Me,” Janna states proudly.

  Shit. I didn’t need that image in my head, and the inevitable reaction of my body has me slighting widening my stance to hide it. I turn half away to give myself a chance to think. What they’re asking isn’t impossible, but only the desert sheikhs and their warriors ride like that. Could I ask them to come to Al Qur’ah? And transport the horses here? Or use the ones in the palace stables?

  Rais. Rais would be up for it. And quite capable of literally sweeping a woman off her feet and into his arms. But he’s a widower. Her age might not bother him, her innocence a gift. No, on second thoughts Rais is a very bad idea.

  “Your brother mentioned you were going to Z̧almā, and that the southern desert would be the place to get the best shots.”

  I sigh deeply, I might have known Nijad would have had his hand in this. And there I’d been thinking he’d given up. “I’m going to the desert to work, I’m afraid I won’t have much time to set something like this up.”

  Joe looks disappointed, but isn’t ready to give up. “Wouldn’t you be able to at least make some introductions? We can take it from there.”

  They don’t know what they’re asking. They’ll need interpreters, security. Health and safety isn’t much cared about in the south, so someone will have to watch out for her… them, I hastily correct myself. But how can I refuse? Despite what I’ve said, my agenda’s not written in stone, as Kadar and Nijad both know. Part of my visit is to be seen, for the tribespeople to know that the second Kassis brother hasn’t totally deserted them. And as I think on that, I know Kadar will think that it’s an excellent plan.

  “We’ll need to arrange transport. There’s a lot of people to take.”

  “Oh, no, we’re not all going,” Mickey looks like he’s telling me good news. “Only Janna and Sally. We don’t need to do sound. We’ll stay here to wrap up, and to start clearing all the stuff.”

  Fuck. I scratch my chin as I wonder how the hell I’m going to get out of this. Shaking my head doubtfully, I summon up the first excuse I can think of, “There’s not room on the helicopter for both of you and your equipment.

  “I won’t take up much space,” Now it’s Sally who blasts my last excuse out of the water, “I’ve only got a handheld camera and tripod, that’s all I’ll need. We’ll do all the editing back home.”

  Double fuck! I’d planned on flying myself, and it’s a four seater. Who am I kidding? There’ll be plenty of room. Kadar’s tasked me with making sure Anarchy Rules have everything they need. Would that extend to arranging for them to film in the desert? Shit. Knowing him, it probably would.

  “I leave tomorrow,” I try one last approach, “If you’ve not finished here…”

  “We’ve finished.” Mickey speaks for them all. “While Janna and Sally have gone, we’ll do the rest of the editing and with the other camera, do some other backdrop filming. We want some footage of the souk.”

  “And the sea.” Rory butts in, Sunny’s standing in front of him, her back to his chest. His head’s resting on hers, and his mouth nuzzles her hair. It’s a touching tableau, and a strange feeling comes over me, realising I’ve never had a relationship like that with a woman. What would it be like to have Janna in my arms? Not just for sex, but for comfort and company? That I’ve even asked myself the question reminds me again just how dangerous it would be to spend time with her.

  “As I said before, I’ve got a strict timetable to adhere to when I get to Z̧almā, I don’t, I was just going to play it by ear, “I won’t have time to do anything more than get in touch with one of the tribes and arrange a meeting for you.”

  Janna’s eyes have narrowed. Somehow, she knows I’m lying. Have I a tell I don’t know about? “That’s fine,” her answer’s dismissive, “that’s all we can ask.”

  Feeling I’ve been backed into a corner, I can’t see any way out. I’d hoped to put hundreds of miles between us, and now I’m going to be forced into her company again. There’s no point appealing to Kadar, and if he finds I’ve refused their quite reasonable request, I could expect a tongue lashing. Which I’d rightly deserve, being unable to offer a rational explanation. Backed into a corner, I say the only thing left to me. “We leave in the morning. Meet me at the helipad at ten o’clock.

  Chapter 14

  Janna

  After agreeing on the time and place to rendezvous with him tomorrow, Jasim turns and goes to the large golden doors through which he’d entered, seeming to follow his usual practice of wanting to get away in a hurry.

  Hmm. Something had told me he’d been lying, grasping at any excuse to put us off. Does he really dislike me so much that he wants to stay away from me? In the few times I’ve met him recently, he seems a totally different person to the one I’d met all those weeks ago. Then he was friendly, light-hearted, a far cry from the persona he presented first on the flight, and yet again today. He’s gone so cold toward me. The man I’ve just spoken to would never have tended my wound, nor slept beside me in bed.

  I might not have experience with a lover, but male companionship is almost all I’ve known over the last seven years of my life. And spending so much time around men, seeing them at their best and their worst, I can often read them like one of my books. If any of the band members were acting this way, I’d have it out with them and get to the bottom of what’s going on, examining actions rather than words. Of course, his indifference hurts me. But that doesn’t stop my body traitorously betraying my feelings whenever I’m around him. My pulse starts racing as soon as he appears, my legs feel weak, and my nipples push at my bra. Is he really so immune to me? I could be overthinking it, but I do wonder whether he’s fighting an attraction that he doesn’t want to feel. Do his original objections still hold sway? Well, of course they do. He’s given me no chance to eradicate them. I’m driving myself crazy not understanding his behavior. I want to rediscover the Jasim I first met.
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  As the doors clang shut behind, him I decide that I’d rather end up making a complete fool of myself than miss the chance to be with the only man who I’ve ever felt the least bit of interest in. Next time I won’t let him run away. I’ll try a direct approach. If he’s battling with himself because of what I believe is a stupid hang up about the age difference between us, I’ll make him understand that doesn’t matter a damn to me. If confronting him doesn’t work, then I’ll just have to accept this dark brooding sheikh is out of my reach. But if I don’t make a last ditch attempt to make him understand this is not an infatuation of a girl, but the very real sexual desire of a woman, I’ll regret it forever. I doubt there are many men like him in the world, and by that, I mean someone who I’d find so appealing on every level.

  Why, oh why, did I have to get hung up on such a complicated man? Or is that just par for the course when you’re a woman?

  Sunny’s looking at me strangely, “You’re fixated on him, aren’t you?”

  Looking around quickly, I make sure no one else has heard, and pull her over to a quieter part of the harem, “Is it so obvious?”

  “That your tongue’s hanging out whenever you see him?” She laughs. “I’d say so.” Then, as she sees the concerned look I throw toward the band members still congregated around the screen, she adds, “Don’t worry. Men are the last to be able to fathom a woman’s emotions.”

  “Have you sorted out your own situation?” I try to switch attention from my predicament.

  She looks down at her feet, “Yeah, well, I’m thinking about it.” She glances over to the twins.

  At least she’s giving it some thought.

  Placing my hand on her arm, I give her a squeeze. “You know I’m here if you want to talk about it?”

  A nod, then she changes the subject, bringing it around to me again. “What are you going to do about your sheikh?”

  “Confront him.” I sound determined.

  Nodding with approval, she gives me the confirmation I didn’t know I was looking for, but am glad she offers. “I think you’re right. He’s holding himself back. How does the saying go? He who doth protest too much?”

  I snigger. “Something like that. And if that’s the case, somehow in the desert I’ll get him to admit it.”

  She gives me a hug. “I wish I was going with you. I’d kick him in the butt for you. You’re a gorgeous woman, Janna. It’s time you got yourself a man. If it goes well, I’ll be on your side getting them to come around.” She nods over at the band, and then turns back, “Tell you what, if it doesn’t work out, we’ll go out on the town when we get home and I’ll help you bag a decent one.”

  She makes it sound as though we can just pick a man up at a supermarket. I grin, and hug her in return. It feels good to have someone who’s got my back.

  “What you two gossiping about?” Sally wanders over to join us.

  “Men.”

  “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.” She sounds so serious, both Sunny and I burst out laughing.

  “You got anyone, Sal?” I probe.

  “No. Never found the right one. Oh, I’ve put a few through their paces, but there was always something missing.” She lowers her voice and adds conspiratorially. “One of these sheikhs would do for me.”

  She’s not having mine.

  We spend the next hour hilariously discussing the ups and downs of the opposite sex who drive us to distraction, but who we can’t do without. Sally’s a laugh and cracks me up with some of her observations. While the distraction helps keep Jasim to the of my mind, I remain convinced that I’m going to give it one last try, and this time be upfront about my feelings toward him.

  At the appointed time the next day, Sally and I are ready and waiting, equipment and rucksacks by our side, standing in the shadow of the palace a short way from the helipad, keeping out of the direct heat of the sun.

  Having spoken to Cara I’d found that, in the desert, the people are not so cosmopolitan as they are in Al Qur’ah, which calls for more conservative clothing. The sheikha couldn’t have done more to help us, so now, together with a selection of modest western clothes, we’ve also got traditional Arab dress, some of which I’m wearing. A pretty pair of loose silk trousers known as shalwar kameez, and a thaub, or long tunic, in a lovely matching pale green with intricate embroidery. Cara also suggested a hijab, to keep the sun off my hair. The clothing is loose and comfortable, excellent for the temperatures here. Sally has decided to stay loyal to her western heritage, wearing light cotton trousers and a long-sleeved tee complete with a wide brimmed hat.

  Punctual, as I expect, Jasim doesn’t keep us waiting, and my mouth drops open when he appears. Gone is the civilized man in a well-tailored suit, in his place is an imposing native of Amahad, wearing gleaming white robes and a headdress secured by a black agal. The snow coloured thobe and keffiyeh enriching his olive skin. He looks different; wild and untamed, mysterious, charismatic, and alluring.

  If I was tempted by the man before, I’m completely enthralled by him now. Divested of his cultured trappings, he has the appearance of a man who would take any woman he desired and make her his own. Whatever her initial protest, he’d soon overcome her objections and have her begging for more. A shiver runs down my spine, my nipples predictably start to harden, and my clit begins to throb. Licking my lips, I find I’ve been staring at him.

  So intent on drinking him in, I almost missed the flare in his eyes when he sees me in the dress of his country. But I don’t fail to spot the speed with which he turns away and with just a gruff lift of his chin indicates the helicopter. He strides toward it, not having made any attempt at verbal greeting.

  “Christ, Janna. He really doesn’t want us along for the ride, does he?” His impoliteness hasn’t skipped Sally’s attention.

  “Well, we’re getting what we want.” I mean the opportunity to film in the desert, as any chance I could have of getting what I really desire starts to fade into the distance. I’m starting to think any approach I could make will just be a waste of time. “Let’s just go along with it, shall we? I’m excited to see the desert city. There’s another palace there, you know?” His boorish behavior has done nothing to dampen my arousal. Trying to have a normal conversation with my nether parts pulsing is not particularly easy, but I try nonetheless. “Perhaps you can get another backdrop there?”

  “Good point.” Sally starts talking about using natural daylight, filming at dusk to get the setting sun and all the technicalities that go along with that. In other words, not a lot to hold my interest, or capture it from the man who’s taken the pilot’s seat.

  A guard opens the rear door for us, and we get into seats. Jasim at last gives us some attention, passing over two sets of headphones, and telling us how to use them.

  His brother appears, and stands by the pilot’s door. He nods at Jasim’s clothing.

  “Don’t say one word, brother,” Jasim warns him.

  “Wouldn’t fucking dare,” Nijad replies, as Jasim flicks some switches, his concentration turning to the craft he’s about to get into the air. “You remember what you’re doing? It’s been a long time since you’ve flown.”

  Oh, shit. I’d been so caught up in the man, I’d forgotten I’ve never been in a helicopter before. I certainly hope he knows how to fly. As Sally and I cast nervous glances at each other, Jasim barks a laugh, “Of course, I do, Ni. Now fuck off and let me get out of here.”

  “Got this for you.” Nijad chucks a package onto the passenger seat of the helicopter.

  Distracted by working the controls, Jasim simply nods in acknowledgement.

  “Let me know if you need anything. I can fly down. Feel free to use the royal suite and make use of all the accommodations.”

  Now Jasim turns sharply and glares at his brother. “I’ll be fine, Ni. Now get lost.”

  I suppress a smile at the easy relationship the brothers have, and then have no time to do anything as the rotors start to turn and we
lift into the air. Now I have to concentrate on trying to keep my stomach in place, and prevent bile from rising. It’s a peculiar lurching sensation I’ve never experienced before.

  A quick glance toward Sally and I see her face beaming, “I love helicopters.” She speaks into the mic, allowing me to hear her through the headphones.

  I reach for her hand, feeling uncertain, “Complete virgin here,” I confide, to explain my nerves.

  When I hear a loud strangled snort, I realise Jasim’s overhearing everything we’re saying and as blood rushes to my cheeks, I know it perhaps wasn’t the tactful way to describe that this is my first flight. Sally’s oblivious to my unintentional double entendre, and starts chatting excitedly, pointing out the landscape below. Luckily, she’s an easy companion, happy to talk and content with mumbled exclamations, which I seem to be putting in the right places, leaving me free to contemplate the man behind the controls. Yesterday’s conversation with Sunny and Sally in the harem had allowed me to get to know her better, and today I’m quite happy to class her as someone who could become a good friend.

  Conversely, Jasim is a poor companion, he doesn’t join in the conversation at all. When he speaks, it’s in Arabic and he’s obviously in contact with ground control or whatever the equivalent is here. Being all but ignored isn’t something I’m used to, and it starts to annoy me. As the two-hour journey continues, annoyance turns to anger. By the time the helicopter starts losing altitude, I’m seething. This rude, obnoxious, and closed-off man is not the person who’d taken such care of me back in London. What the hell has got into him?

  It makes me only more determined to find out.

  When the helicopter lands, Jasim steps down. He starts to walk away, then at last remembering his manners, turns back and offers his hand to help us both out. For me it’s just a casual touch, dropping his hold as soon as my feet touch the ground. Then he beckons a woman forward.

  “This is Lamis. Please, go with her and she will show you where you’ll be staying. I will leave you now. I will attempt to make the arrangements you’ve asked for, and will contact you when I have done so.” His formal clipped tones make me glare at his retreating back.